The Prodigal Child
by brighterthanstarlight
Summary: Meet Franklin Holmes. A normal, soon to be junior in high school with really bad luck. So she thinks. When Frankie's best friend decides to drag her to his mysterious summer camp after a series of weird events, she learns that her bad luck has less to do with karma, and more to do with the gods of Mount Olympus, who are no longer as mythical as she was led to believe. OC. Post HOO
1. Chapter 1: Detention Blues

**Chapter 1: Detention Blues**

**AN: HELLO EVERYONE! It is I, brighterthansunshine, formerly known as KeepCalmandSprint13. ****So I recently fell back into the Percy Jackson fandom, and I found my old fanfiction account. I went back and read some of my stories, and I realized that I wasn't quite done with **_**My (Not-So-Normal) Life of a Teenage Demigod**_**'s plotline. I've changed a few things, and if you read My Not-So-Normal Life, you'll notice some details have been changed. I really didn't get deep enough into the plot before, so if you have not read My Not-So-Normal Life, you certainly weren't missing much. So without further ado, here is **_**The Prodigal Child**_**!**

**Please comment, favorite, follow, and PM me if you like what you read!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own Percy Jackson!**

With a grunt of frustration, I chucked the basketball at the net, not expecting it to go in.

It didn't, and the chuckle from behind me made me jump.

"I take it detention went well, then?"

I shot a dirty look over my shoulder at my best friend, then took a few steps into the grass to retrieve the basketball. "Oh, it was great. Me and Mrs. Smith sat and painted our nails and gossiped about the cutest guy on the baseball team."

Cameron Tate grinned at me slyly from the edge of the outdoor basketball court, where he leaned on his crutches. If it weren't for those crutches, I'd have thrown the ball at him for looking at me like that.

"Oh yeah?" Cam poked me with one of his crutches and laughed when I swatted him away with my free hand. "Which on do you think is the cutest?"

Pushing my hair out of my face haughtily, I said immediately, "The shortstop, no question."

I turned my back on Cam, not quickly enough to miss the frown that etched itself on is face. I shook my head to get the thought out of my mind, then launched my basketball through the air from the free throw line.

"Nice shot," Cam said as the ball swooshed through the net. "How was track practice?"

I shrugged as I went to retrieve the ball to practice another free throw. "I'm sure it was fine. I just wasn't there. Smith kept me an extra ten minutes because I was thirty seconds late. So I missed most of practice. Thank god Coach let me so the workout on my own, he just seems really disappointed in me."

"I'm sure he loves that his all-star gets stuck in detention at least twice a month."

I missed the next shot, probably because I was distracted. "Thanks a lot, Cameron. That really makes me feel better."

And suddenly I couldn't keep it in anymore. "I hate her! I think she has a personal vendetta against me, you know? I'm late ever once in a while, and it's usually because Logan drives like a freaking maniac. I try really hard to get there on time, and she never gives me a break! I mean, come on, it's just homeroom, she doesn't have to take it so seriously."

Cam eased himself onto the bench beside the court with a sigh, like he'd been expecting me to burst. "Yeah. Hey, maybe she just doesn't like blondes."

I scowled at him, then abandoned my basketball to sit beside him. "No way. She doesn't like you either. But she's always going out of her way to pick on me! Like, I'm sorry I'm not perfectly on time every single day, but when I'm late to chemistry Mr. Chapman lets it slide!"

My best friend grimaced, "C'mon, Frank, you know Mr. Chapman's different."

"Yeah, he actually likes me! I swear, Mrs. Smith isn't even human, she's probably part witch or something, like Circe or Medea." I waved one hand through the air, referencing the sorceresses from the old Greek myths that I knew.

Cam rolled his eyes, but continued to listen to me rant about our homeroom teacher. After a minute or so, he broke me out of my thoughts by swatting at my hand, which had risen to my mouth without my knowing. "That is _disgusting_, Frankie," the boy chastised, making a face at me.

I knew that nail biting was a bad habit. I knew it was gross. But it was my first reaction whenever I got emotional about anything, especially when I was anxious. And nothing made me more anxious than detention.

"Sorry," I winced, instead using my hands to fiddle with a hair tie on my wrist, spinning it around on one finger and flicking it with another. "I'm just worried about track. You know, 'cause I missed practice today because of detention."

Cameron sighed, "You're good, I know you do it when you get anxious. It's just gross."

I shrugged, "it's a habit."

After reaching down to re-tie my running sneakers, I frowned.

"Why are your pants dirty, you didn't play, did you? Hey, where's Logan? I thought he was taking us home?"

Noticing that my best friend was wearing baseball pants with dirt caked up the side like he'd slid into one of the bases, I remembered that my stepbrother, who was a grade above us and on the baseball team with Cam, was supposed to give us a ride home, since he had his license.

And a car, which was ridiculously unfair.

The unmistakable sound of screeching breaks launched Cameron to his feet as I turned to see what was going on.

"It's just Logan," I said to Cam, my eyes on his foot, which he suddenly didn't need crutches for. "Your foot okay?"

Before the brunet could respond, my stepbrother was yelling out the passenger side window for us to get in the car.

And everything was normal again. Cam was back to himself as he thanked me for carrying his backpack, and I loaded my backpack, track bag, basketball, and all of my best friend's stuff into the trunk of Logan's car.

Cameron played the injury card and got the shotgun seat. If I wasn't so emotionally drained from detention, I would've fought with him over it, because I always get carsick when Logan drives. But whoever sits in the shotgun seat gets to choose the music, and Cameron has good taste.

"What's up, Frank?" Logan asked, turning around to bump fists with me. "How was detention?"

I glared at Cameron, who obviously was the one who told my big-mouthed brother. "Don't tell Dad and Maggie."

Logan smirked, raising an eyebrow. "Yeah, right. What's stopping me?"

"I'll tell Maggie that you broke your great-gram's urn."

I nearly smacked my face on the back of Logan's seat as he slammed on the breaks. "You _wouldn't_."

"Of course I would," I said indignantly as Cam shot Logan that read 'seriously?'.

Logan spluttered as he looked between the two of us. "But you two broke it when you were playing knee hockey in the family room!"

I raised my eyebrows. "Logan, I have no clue what you're talking about. Cameron and I haven't played knee hockey in the family room since we broke that window."

My brother glared at me. "You little-"

Cameron interrupted him. "Logue, the light's green."

And the car was quiet, save for the alternative rock radio station that Cam had found.

Blackmail is a messy business, but sometimes, it is necessary. Fortunately, between Logan and I, we've broken enough things that Maggie, my stepmom, will believe anything. Cameron and I broke her grandmother's urn a few weeks ago when we were playing knee hockey in the family room, like Logan said. But because I was already in trouble for getting detention that week (guess who gave it to me), and Logan had snuck out the weekend before, all of us had clammed up and Maggie still didn't know who cracked the urn.

It helped the Cameron would always take my side, no matter what. He practically lived at our house, especially since his dad travelled a lot. Our dads actually became friends when Cameron and I were in preschool, and it was just a coincidence that Mr. Tate ended up moving down the road from us when Cam and I were in kindergarten.

Maggie and Logan have been a part of our lives for just as long. My dad and Maggie got married when I was 5 and Logan was 7. She's not my real mom, but she might as well be, because she's the one who raised me. My real mom met my dad when he was covering the Yankees and lived in New York, they hit it off, and then she got pregnant with me. But she couldn't leave her job in New York, and my dad got assigned to cover the Phillies, and he took me with him when he moved to Philadelphia. My dad never heard from my mom again.

So, Dad raised me as a single dad until he and Maggie got back in touch, and the rest is history. From what I know, which isn't much, since my dad doesn't talk about his childhood a lot, but I know that him and Mags were friends at this summer camp that they went to, and when they grew up, they lost touch. When Dad found her again, he instantly fell in love with her.

Sometimes I wish Maggie was my real mom.

She and my dad are perfect for each other, and she's raised me like I'm her own kid, not even caring that my dad originally fell in love with someone else.

Was my dad in love with my mom? I don't really know. Maybe.

My dad is the coolest guy ever. His own dad wasn't around when he was growing up, so he works really hard to make sure that I never grew up feeling like I wasn't loved. Even though he travels a lot, he makes sure that he's home for the really important stuff.

My dad's a sportswriter. He covers baseball. Specifically the Phillies.

Right now, he was in Los Angeles for their series against the Dodgers, but we had tickets for the next home game against the Mets.

Dad grew up on Long Island, so he was a Mets fan. It's the only thing I could ever fault him for.

Logan, on the other hand, likes the Yankees. I think he's a bandwagon fan, to be honest, but don't you ever tell him I said that.

Maggie's an Angels fan, for some reason. I mean, I know she grew up in LA, but most people chose the Dodgers. The Angels are cool though. The Dodgers are just annoying.

With a slam of his door, Cameron broke me out of my thoughts. I got out of the car and went around back to the trunk to get his stuff since he couldn't carry it with his crutches.

"You gonna be okay?" Cameron asked me and I nodded.

"I think I just need a good night's sleep. Are we picking you up tomorrow morning?"

"Unless you need to be early so that you don't get detention again," my best friend smirked, and I punched him lightly in the shoulder.

"Just don't be late, or Mrs. Smith will have my head."

I was joking, but Cameron's smile quickly became ashen, his face pale.

"Cam, you good?" I reached out a hand to catch him in case he fainted or something.

He shook his head and gave me a small grin. "Was thinking about how boring my life would be if I had to make normal friends."

Laughing, I told him I'd talk to him later, and then got in the car beside Logan.

"What was that all about?" My brother asked me, and I frowned.

"What was what?"

Logan made a face as we backed out of the Tate's driveway, "Cam got all weird when you joked about Smith. Is something wrong?"

I frowned, "Not that I know of. Everything seems pretty normal."

**AN: Please comment, favorite, follow, and PM me if you like what you read! Thanks guys! **


	2. Chapter 2: Dinnertime Surprises

**Chapter 2: Dinnertime Surprises**

**AN: Wow! I'm actually updating! Gotta love it! I'm on a writing kick right now so I'm gonna get as much done as I can! Lucky for you all! Here's the story!**

* * *

Forks and knives scratched along our plates as we ate dinner quietly. My stepmom, Maggie, had made chicken with veggie stir fry, and Logan and I were wolfing it down. She's a good cook, but the sooner I finished my dinner, the sooner I could avoid any prying questions about my day.

"So, Frank, how was practice today?" Maggie asked, as if she knew I was trying to avoid talking to her.

I glanced up, meeting Logan's eye as he raised an eyebrow, daring me to try lying to his mom. I looked back down at my plate. "It was okay. Pretty uneventful."

"I wonder why," Logan mumbled under his breath, and I kicked him underneath the table.

"What was that?" Maggie looked at her son, and with a wince, he shook his head.

"Nothing, Mom."

I bit my lip, my eye catching on Logan's Hadley High Baseball t-shirt. "How was practice, Logue? Cameron seems pretty bored now that he can't play."

Cameron, my best friend of ten years, got in a fight at the baseball game last week. Cam's a pitcher, and he hit a batter on a wild pitch. Everyone gets hit, and most guys could take it, but this guy stormed the mound. The dugouts emptied, everyone ran in to join the fight, and it took the umps a few minutes to restore order on the field.

When the dust cleared, the kid was gone, having split after realizing that he'd be in huge trouble for storming the mound, and Cam was on the ground with a black eye and a broken foot. The batter had whaled him with his bat, apparently. If Cam was able to play however, he likely would've been suspended for the rest of the season. They only had the postseason left, anyways, since we only had a few more days left in the school year.

Logan shrugged. "Tate's ready to lose his mind, he even tried to use one of his crutches as a bat when we were messing around after practice today. Coach nearly whupped his ass for it-"

"Logan Alexander, you watch your language!" Maggie interjected, hitting my brother on the arm lightly.

Logan shot her an incredulous look. "Really, Mom? I think Frankie's heard the word 'ass' before."

My stepmom shook her head, "That's not what I meant."

"Yeah, Logan. Be respectful," I shook my head. "How rude. Mags, I'm gonna go upstairs to do my homework, thanks for dinner."

"Not so fast, young lady." Maggie said sharply, "We need to talk."

I raised an eyebrow, "Are you breaking up with me?"

"No, smartass, about your detention."

"Busted," Logan coughed, trying not to let his mom see his grin.

I kicked my brother under the table again, "Shut up."

"Ow! Mom, she keeps kicking me!"

I scowled at him, "Mag, Logan broke Great-Gram's urn!"

"You're so full of shit!"

"Would you watch your _hecking_ language?"

"Mom, she's lying! She and Cameron broke the urn when playing hockey in the family room! Again!"

"I told you not to tell her about my detention and what do you do? You freaking-"

A fist slammed down onto the dinner table, rattling the silverware and abruptly ending the argument.

Logan and I spun to face our mom so fast both of us could've gotten whiplash.

"Maggie, what the _heck_?"

"Mom!"

We were both shocked.

My dad had the temper. He passed it onto me. Mags was calm, constantly, almost annoyingly so. She never got loud or violent or slammed her hand onto the table.

"The two of you are going to give me a migraine, I swear to the…" She took a deep breath, trailing off.

I raised an eyebrow. "To the what?"

Maggie shook her head, "Frankie, the school called me. Would you stop glaring at your brother?"

My expression softened. "Why did you ask me how track practice was if you knew I had detention after school?"

"I was going to give you a chance to be honest about it. We need to talk about this, Frankie."

I shook my head, not meeting anyone's eye. "I don't wanna talk, Mags."

My stepmom placed a hand on my brother's arm, speaking softly. "Logan, don't you have some homework to do?"

And just like that, it was just the two of us.

"C'mon Frankie, what's going on? That's your third detention this month, and you're not the type to act up. Logan, I'd expect this from, but you? This isn't normal for you."

I sighed, "It's my stupid homeroom teacher. She's got it out for me. I'm not even doing anything, I'm just late every so often, and she gives me a detention for it! I'm just so frustrated! I don't know why she doesn't like me, but she goes out of her way to pick on me!"

Maggie frowned, "Your homeroom teacher?"

"Yeah. Mrs. Smith. I bet that isn't even her real name anyway," I stabbed my chicken a few times for emphasis. "I bet she's actually some international crime boss, on the run from the Mexican government, who's secretly smuggling cocaine into the country, and she knows that I'm onto her. And she's trying to silence me before I can alert the authorities and blow her cover!"

I swung my arms wide, but lost my hold on my fork, sending it spiraling into the family room.

"Oops."

Maggie sighed, rolling her eyes, "You need to be more careful, Frankie. And I'm sure your homeroom teacher isn't smuggling cocaine."

"Who's smuggling cocaine?" A voice asked, and I leapt out of my seat.

"Dad!"

"Hey, Kiddo," he laughed, holding me tight as I threw my arms around his middle.

Everything seemed more okay now that he was here. He smelled like chewing tobacco, which meant that he'd had a stressful ride home. He picked up the habit when he lived on the road, traveling with minor leaguers who chose tobacco over bubble gum to chew. I guess that I got the safer habit, biting my nails, although Mag said that both of our habits were downright disgusting.

It's part of the ADHD, I think. My dad, Logan, and I all have it. We all have our quirks, our tics, our habits. Dad chews, I bite my nails, and Logan talks.

If you haven't noticed, my brother doesn't shut up. He's an extrovert, he's social, he's popular, and man, he will talk your ear off.

"What's this about drug smuggling?" My dad asked, holding me at arm's length to shoot me a suspicious look. "Frank, are you getting into trouble again?"

"Nooo, " I sang, my voice high pitched.

"Yes," Maggie, who'd come around the table to stand beside my father, shot me down with a look, frowning. "Tom, Frankie was in detention again. We need to talk about this."

Dad raised an eyebrow at me. "Frankie?"

"I was a few minutes late to homeroom this morning," I shrugged. "And my homeroom teacher- who I think is smuggling cocaine- is out to get me, so she gave me a detention. Dad, I promise, I'm not acting out, I'm just-"

"Why is there a fork in here?" Logan interrupted me from the other room, and I lost my train of thought as my head spun to look at him, but I didn't have a witty response, so I made a face, but didn't answer.

I turned back around to find Mags shaking her head, my dad pointing a finger at her.

"What's going on?" I asked them, looking back and forth between my parents, "What are you arguing about?"

"Nothing," Maggie said quickly, pushing my short hair back behind my ears, where it wouldn't stay for long.

Dad, brow furrowed, let out a breath as he looked from Mags to me. "Nothing."

Before I could call bullshit, my dad was talking again.

"Hey Kiddo, there is something we need to talk about regarding this weekend. It's an important weekend, you know."

I grinned up at him excitedly, "I was starting to think you'd forgot."

"I know how much you love John Hughes movies, but I would never forget your birthday. This is not Sixteen Candles, Franklin," Dad said with a smile. "For starters, I got the okay to work from home all weekend, and I got tickets for Saturday's game. For all of us, and Cam, if he can crutch his way through the park. I know you were looking forward to seeing your Phils lose to the Mets, but I think watching them beat the Marlins on your birthday would be even better."

I squealed like a preteen at her first Jonas Brothers concert. "Screw the Mets! That is so much cooler! And Cameron would kill me if I didn't bring him! Dad! Thank you!"

I lunged forward to hug him again, and in all my excitement, I missed the sad smile that my dad and Maggie shared, almost as if they weren't looking forward to my sixteenth birthday.

"I'm gonna go call Cameron!"

* * *

"You do realize that I live next door to you, right?" Cameron asked as he accepted my FaceTime call, "You could just come over if you need to talk to me. or shine a flashlight into my bedroom window like you used to do when we were little."

I rolled my eyes, flopping onto my bed. "Guess what!"

He disappeared off the screen, still talking. "Are you really gonna make me-"

I interrupted him before he could finish. "My dad got tickets to the Phillies game for my birthday! We're all going this weekend!"

"That's awesome!" Cam said, popping back into my field of vision, "are they good seats?"

"I didn't even ask," I laughed, pulling out my chemistry homework and putting it on my bed, propping my phone up on a pillow. "I completely forgot. I was just so excited that he was home, you know?"

"How did he take the news about your detention?" Cameron asked, sounding like he was far away from his phone.

"Not as bad as I thought he would. Maggie wasn't happy though. What are you doing?" I frowned, squinting at the phone, chemistry homework forgotten.

Cam's head came back into view. "Dad wants me to start getting packed up for camp. He thinks that I procrastinate packing up til the last minute and I'm never prepared."

Instantly, my mood soured.

"Oh, right. You're still going to baseball camp this summer?" I tried to pretend I wasn't interested in his answer, looking instead at the chemical equations worksheet that I had to complete by tomorrow.

I _hated_ baseball camp.

Baseball camp meant that Cameron would be gone from June 30th, throughout July, until almost the end of August. We only ever had one week of summer vacation to spend together.

And it was all because of stupid baseball camp.

"Why wouldn't I?" Cameron sounded distant, and not just from his phone.

I looked at the phone, incredulous, chemical equations forgotten. "You broke your foot. You can't even play baseball."

His face appeared on the screen again, frowning. "So? I'll have the cast off soon, and I'll be able to play."

"That's not how it works, Cameron," I scowled. "Why do you always have to go to this stupid camp? Logan stays and plays summer ball here, why can't you?"

"It's… a special camp, Frank." Cameron said slowly, not making eye contact with me, distracted, his voice raising just the slightest in pitch.

And that's when I knew he was lying to me.

* * *

**AN: I never claimed to not be dramatic! Word count isn't too high, but I wanted to get this chapter up today! What did you think? Please comment, favorite, follow, and PM me if you like what you read! Thanks guys! **


	3. Chapter 3: Stepbrothers and Secrets

**Chapter 3: Stepbrothers and Secrets**

**AN: Hi everyone! I'm apologizing in advance for the grammar in this chapter...I know my grammar is far from perfect normally, but I wrote this chapter on a public computer with a sticky spacebar. Ugh! I also just wanted to remind all of you that this is a complete work of fiction. The Phillies are Frankie's favorite team because everyone hates Philadelphia sports fans, and she's competitive to the point of obnoxiousness. So it fits. Did Mickey Tate break the Home Run Derby record? No, Vlad Guerro Jr did. Have the Phillies won back-to-back World Series'? Almost, but no dice. So I guess this is kind of like a MLB fanfiction too. Anyway, enjoy the chapter, and don't forget to let me know what you think! **

* * *

After I sighed like we'd had this argument about baseball camp a million times (which we had) and I was done arguing (which I wasn't), Cameron and I ended our call, which is when I decided that couldn't possibly focus on chemistry.

So I went to plan B.

Logan.

Logan Watson is, in every sense of the word but the biological, my brother. We even look alike, at least, as far as stepsiblings go. We're both blonde with blue eyes, but the resemblance stops there. Logan's blonde is more of a sun-bleached, surfer type, while mine's more of a sandy blonde, pin-straight and cut to my shoulders.

At one point, Logan's hair also was closer to his shoulders. It was when the whole baseball team refused to get haircuts for the entire season. Mags was almost happy when they lost in the first round of state playoffs, because that meant that Logan would finally cut his hair. He's still got the iconic baseball player "flow", though. If you don't know what I'm talking about, you should definitely look it up. There are always a few really good examples during the College World Series. It helps that the college players are really cute, too.

Baseball was Logan's entire life. Nothing, for Logan, could be anything short of perfection during the baseball season, and most of our summers were spent watching him play on tournament teams and in exhibition games for major league and college scouts.

It helped that, while Cameron was at his special snowflake baseball camp, his dad was here at home for the most part and pretty bored without his son. So, Mr. Tate hooked Logan up with some pretty important people.

How does Mr. Tate know the important people?

Because Mr. Tate is important people.

How important?

4-time All-Star, NL Rookie of the Year, 3-time World Series Champion, back-to-back World Series MVP… the list goes on and on, but you get the picture. Why is he friends with us? Because the year he broke the record for the most home runs in the home run derby, my dad was assigned to cover the Phillies.

And guess which team Mr. Tate played for from the time he was drafted out of high school, until his retirement five years ago.

The two men met, and bonded over being single dads.

Is it fate? Maybe. Or maybe the odds were just in my favor for once.

Doubtful.

So I guess it was fate.

So what does Logan have to do with my realization that Cameron was hiding something from me? Well, if they were in cahoots, Logan would be the one to let something slip. And if they weren't, and Cameron was keeping something from the both of us, then Logan was my best chance at finding out what it was.

* * *

"We need to talk," I said as I rounded the corner into his bedroom.

My brother, from where he was slouched at his desk, attempting to do his own homework, raised an eyebrow. "Are you breaking up with me?"

I rolled my eyes. "I just used that on Mags at dinner. You can't use it when I just said it."

"I probably taught it to you anyway, pipsqueak."

I sighed as I flopped onto his barely made bed, regretting my plan to ask Logan for help. He was never as helpful as I needed him to be. Alas, he was the best I had.

"I think Cameron's hiding something from me," I said, cutting straight to the chase.

Logan looked at me incredulously, "What?"

"I think Cam-"

My brother shook his head, cutting me off. "No, no, I heard you the first time, I just didn't believe you."

I glared at him, and he held up his hands in an "I surrender" sort of gesture.

"Seriously! Why would he keep something from you? Also, how would he keep something from you? You guys are literally always with each other. The only time you're not is-"

This time, I interrupted him. "Baseball camp."

And if I said it the way I say "the Mets", then that's nobody's business but mine.

Logan still wasn't convinced. "Jesus, Frank, I know you hate Cam's baseball camp, but I think you're going a little far this time."

"Ugh! Listen to me," I groaned. "Cameron never pulls the special snowflake card, and he shouldn't be going if his foot is broken."

"I mean, yeah, that's weird, but Frankie, he loves baseball," Logan shook his head. "You'd be out there, same as him, if it were track team, or doctor camp, or something else that you're obsessed with."

"Doctor Camp wouldn't be in New York," I grumbled face-first into a pillow. "Worst-case scenario, I'd on the other side of Philly."

"Not my point, Frankie."

I lifted my head up to shoot him a dirty look. "You're not listening to mine, why should I try to see yours?"

"Because I'm older?"

"I'm wiser, dingbat."

"Dingbat? Real mature, Franklin."

I stuck my tongue out at him, then after a minute, I sobered up. "I dunno Logue; I have a weird feeling about this. And the dreams-"

Apparently, in this family, we never let each other finish our sentences.

"What dreams?" Logan cut me off, looking gravely serious.

I shrugged, looking at him funny. "I can't really remember them so well, but Cameron's in them, and he's acting weird."

"Like, how weird? Like, dating you weird, or mentally unstable weird?" The insult fell short of its intended target, it seemed as Logan's heart wasn't really in the insult.

Usually, Logan wouldn't hesitate to make a joke about Cameron and me, for some reason, he thinks I'm going to end up dating him. He's probably wrong. If you haven't noticed, I'm kind of the brains around here.

"Neither, just... Weird." I shook my head, "It's hard to explain."

Logan frowned. "Try."

And so I told him everything. I told him about Mrs. Smith picking on me, and how I'll have nightmares about her growing claws and trying to murder me after every detention I served with her. I told him about Cameron's weirdness, and about the dreams I'd had. The ones of Cameron and me on a train, whispering so nobody would hear us talk about our Latin homework? The ones of Cameron wearing metal armor, like one of the Knights of the Round Table, except the armor looked much different than the kinds we'd seen in Honors European History. It almost looked like it was from the classical era.

I even told him about the dreams I'd had about him. The ones of him glowing, like he was doused in glitter and gotten a spotlight shone on him. The ones of us fighting with swords and spears like ancient heroes.

I didn't tell him about some of the darker ones. Of storm clouds gathering, blocking out the sun, darkening the world around me. The ones where people would flood the streets and I'd turn away, and when I looked again, the streets would be awash with blood.

The ones that made me turn on the light in the middle of the might, close the curtains, and lock my windows.

The ones that made me scared to go back to sleep.

* * *

**AN: dun dun dun! It all seems a little cliché at this point, and there isn't too much here, but I promise that this is a really important chapter leading up to the far more interesting stuff that's coming soon! What did you think? Please comment, favorite, follow, and PM me if you like what you read! Thanks guys!**


	4. Chapter 4: The Plot Thickens

**Chapter 4: The Plot Thickens**

**AN: sorry about the measly little last chapter I posted, but I promise that from here on out, the chapters are going to get a lot more interesting. Does anyone have any hunches about what's going on? What secrets Cameron's keeping? It will all be explained soon… kind of? **

* * *

Hadley High was like your typical private high school. There were rich kids who bought their way in, scholarship kids who worked their way in, you had your jocks, your nerds, the people who thought they were the shit, and people who were shit (although those usually ended up being the same people), and you had those of us that tried their best, and just ended up average. You could tell which group a person considered themselves to be a part of by who they sat with at lunch.

Cameron and I sat with a bunch of kids from our English Lit class that were "average" the same way we were. We were friendly with them, but I wouldn't exactly call them "friends".

I didn't really have friends, aside from Cameron and Logan. There were plenty of people that I talked to, that I was friendly with, but at the end of the week, I didn't have sleepovers where I braided hair and gossiped with other girls.

A lot of girls didn't exactly want to be friends with a girl who was in and out of detention like I was, obsessed over baseball, and studies organic chemistry for fun.

They thought that I was weird.

I learned the hard way that a lot of people just wanted to get close to Cameron and Logan and would ditch me when something better came along.

The other smart kids, the ones who did well in school and also studied for fun, they tolerated me. They just didn't like the detentions. It made a lot of them uneasy.

But Cameron was always there by my side, through thick and thin. And never once did he consider leaving my side when the opportunity for something better came along. That is, until he started going to baseball camp when we were thirteen.

Then, I started coming second.

"Sorry we can't go to the beach for your birthday, Frank, I gotta leave a week early for baseball camp."

"I'll be over in a few minutes, Frankie, I need to call a friend from camp first."

"I'm breaking all of our summer traditions, but it's okay, I'm just doing it for baseball camp."

Camp became his new number one. I wasn't mad or anything, just a little jealous. And the worst part of all of it was that I wasn't even sure what I was jealous _of._

Maybe it was the new friends that he was making, or the baseball he was playing, or the traveling he got to do, or maybe it was the fact that he never told me much about any of it.

I found things out secondhand from my dad, or Logan, or Mr. Tate.

Cameron never felt the need to tell me about it himself.

And whenever I asked, he would get all squirmy, like I'd asked about his mom or something, which I never did.

I grew up without my biological mom, and I hated when people brought it up. She left us when I was a baby, and we were better off without her. I was better off without her. I had my dad, I had Maggie, I had Logan, and I had the Tate's.

At least, I used to think that I did.

These days, I wasn't so sure.

* * *

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" I asked Logan for what the twelfth time was probably today.

In response, he texted back the middle finger emoji.

"Is everything okay?" Cameron asked me, and the way I jumped out of my seat definitely contradicted the "I'm fine!" that I yelped out.

_Was I fine? Nope. not really. _

"Hey Tate, Frank," Logan said, feigning nonchalance.

Badly.

"Hi Logan?" Cameron looked suspicious. Dammit.

I bit my lip, trying not to yell at Logan for being such a bad actor, because that would definitely blow our cover. Instead, I rolled my eyes, took a bite of my leftover stir-fry, and glared at him.

"What do you want, Logan?"

He held his hands up in surrender, "Jeez, can't a brother check in on his sister at lunch to see how she's doing?"

"No? You don't even have this lunch period, Logan."

Cameron raised an eyebrow at my brother, like he was daring him to come up with a legitimate explanation, taking my "side", as usual.

Or at least, what he thought was my side.

My brother sighed, "I have study hall right now and you know they don't care if you leave or not."

"That still doesn't explain why you're here…" I trailed off, looking around the lunchroom pointedly.

"I forgot that we had chem homework," Logan said. He was in Honors Chemistry with Cameron and I, though neither of them paid nearly enough in class. I usually ended up doing the worksheets for all three of us.

"I'm not letting you copy my homework," I glared at him.

"I'm not asking if I can copy it-"

"Bullshit," Cam coughed, and I hid a grin.

"-I just need you to tell me how to do it." He finished, sending Cam a dirty look.

Technically, Cam was correct.

I looked at my best friend, rolled my eyes, then got up. "Fine, I guess I'll be a good sister and help you do your homework."

Cam started to get up, and I frowned at him. "What are you doing?"

_Pfft, no, I wasn't panicking._

"Coming?" My best friend shot me a look, letting me know he thought I was being weird. "I'm not gonna stay while you guys-"

I cut him off with a shriek. "You can't come! You know someone's gonna try to take our seats, and if my stir fry's not here when I get back, I'm gonna be pissed."

"Fine, fine, I'll stay here," he said with a roll of his eyes. "You get so cranky when you're hungry."

I grinned at him and started taking a few steps backwards, towards the door.

"I'll be back in like, a minute. The homework was so easy even Logan can figure it out." My brother punched me in the arm as we walked away and I glared at him, "Do you want my help or not?"

"I could say the same for you. Quit calling me stupid or I'll tell Cameron what you're doing," Logan threatened under his breath.

Before I could threaten him back, the teacher in charge of monitoring the lunchroom was asking me where I was going.

"My brother needs lunch money and I left mine in my locker," I lied, giving her a 'what can you do' sort of look, praying that she would let me go.

"Be quick about it," she rolled her eyes at Logan, then waved her hand to signal us that we could go.

Out of the cafeteria, we booked it down the hall, away from the cafeteria- and the old chorus room that housed study hall. We skidded to a stop in between two of the history classrooms in the West Wing, the oldest part of the building, where the hallways just seemed dark all of the time, the lockers were rusty and creaky, and the air was just plain cold. Even now, in June, I needed a sweatshirt when I went to my history class.

"You could just be paranoid, ya know," Logan said offhandedly as the two of us stared at Cameron's locker.

Maybe I was stalling, but I turned away from the locker to face him. "Last night it was: 'maybe you have a point, Frankie, those _are _weird dreams, maybe Cameron _is _up to something', and now you think I'm paranoid?"

Logan shrugged, a dull expression on his face that didn't help to assuage my annoyance. "Look, if we break into his locker, there's no turning back. Besides, what do you even expect to find in here?"

_Well, crap. He did have a point. _

What exactly _was _I looking for anyway? It's not like I knew what Cameron was lying to me about. I didn't even know that Cameron was lying to me!

I shook my head, "No. I need answers."

"And we're going to get them in Cameron's _locker_?" Logan looked incredulous, his brow furrowed, mouth hanging open like he was drawing out a 'duh', his blue eyes staring into mine like he thought I was crazy.

"Well breaking into his house seemed a little extreme," I deadpanned.

Logan shrugged again, stretching out his arms as if to say, 'do what you want'.

Not that I wouldn't have done what I wanted anyway. It was just nice to get the go-ahead. It made me feel like I wasn't breaking about fifty school rules right now. Logan gave me the go-ahead, so what I was doing couldn't be _that _bad.

_Right?_

"Just," Logan sighed defeatedly, "Do your freaky delinquent thing and let's get out of here. I have a weird feeling about this."

I knelt by the locker, frowning. "Weird feelings usually mean we're on the right path. And it's not a freaky delinquent thing, I 'm just smarter than you."

I lost my balance after feeling a foot a foot nudge me in the back. "Hey! Cut that out!"

I turned to glare at Logan, who had his arms folded across his chest.

"Would you quit calling me dumb?"

I rolled my eyes, turning back to the locker. "I've never called you dumb. You jumped to conclusions, I'm just saying that I'm smarter, which is a fact. I can't believe I'm doing this in a skirt."

"Whatever, Frank."

I shushed him as I put my ear to the dial on the lock, then slowly began to turn it to the right. I needed things to be quiet if I was going to- _there_.

"What number is it on?" I whispered.

"Thirty-seven."

I hummed, then kept going. Turning it to the left this time. Slowly, slowly, I turned the knob, waiting for the lock to tell me what I was looking for.

It sounds crazy, I know. But I learned to pick locks when I was a little kid, I can't exactly remember when I learned it, Logan or Cam probably taught me how, even though neither of those guys remember how to do it now. I joke about being smarter than them, but when it comes to learning new things- unless its sports- I tend to pick up and retain skills a lot faster and a lot longer than they do.

"Thirty-seven, sixteen, five," I said, standing up and dusting off my denim skirt.

Logan raised an eyebrow, shaking his head. "I don't care what you say about it. That's just freaky."

"Just call me Freaky Frankie," I sighed, rolling my eyes.

My brother snorted, like I'd just made the joke of the century, and I elbowed him to shut him up.

"Hey, we're supposed to be quiet, remember?" I scowled, then got to work opening the locker.

Three to the right. Thirty-seven.

Two to the left. Sixteen.

Five.

And when I tried the handle, Cameron's locker swung right open with a sharp _clang! _ That echoed down the hallway.

"Well, you got it open, now what are you gonna do?" Logan looked back and forth between me and the locker.

To be completely honest, I really wasn't sure. I hadn't been entirely confident that I'd even be able to get the locker open, much less make a plan for when I pulled off what the school had probably promised concerned parents was impossible.

"I guess we start with anything that seems out of the ordinary. Then we move on from there," I said slowly, the plan forming out in front of me as I spoke.

I peered inside the locker, not knowing what to expect, but somehow still feeling surprised (and maybe a little disappointed) when I saw that it looked perfectly normal.

A rain jacket hanging on the hook on the back wall, sticky notes covering the inside of the door, books resting atop the shelf, and a baseball bat leaning on the left wall.

"What exactly do you think you're doing, Miss Holmes?"

_Shit. _

After nearly pissing my pants, I slowly turned to find Mrs. Smith walking down the hallway to our left.

_What the hell? How did she sneak up on us? _

"Franklin Holmes, might I remind you that your lunch period is for eating lunch, not for locker visits with your friends," The bitch gave Logan a creepy looking smile. "And, if I remember correctly, your locker is located outside the door of our homeroom."

_What? Since when did she know all of this personal information about me?_

"It's my locker!" Logan blurted out, "She's helping me with something!"

I scowled at Mrs. Smith. "Logan's my brother. He's not just a _friend_."

"I know who this is, Franklin. And I believe that Junior lockers are located in the East Wing. We are in the West Wing. And if this isn't either of the two of your lockers, then you are breaking the Hadley High Code of Conduct. I must ask the two of you to come with me immediately."

"Hey!"

Logan and I spun to find Cameron crutching toward us. And he looked pissed.

_This is it_, I thought. _Ten years of friendship down the drain. Cameron figured out Logan and I broke into his locker and now he's gonna drop us like hot potatoes. _

"What do you think you're doing?" He sent us a dirty look.

I bit my lip anxiously. "Cameron, please-"

He cut me off with a shake of his head. "Not now, Frankie."

At this point, he'd caught up to us. He stood between Mrs. Smith and Logan and me. I wasn't sure how a sixteen-year-old boy on crutches could look particularly intimidating, but he managed to make me feel a lot more okay about the demon professor currently staring us down.

"Are you sure you want to do this, Mr. Tate?" Mrs. Smith, the devil herself, asked my best friend, and he reached behind him, arm outstretched, as if he knew my hands, for some reason, were shaking. I laced my fingers through his, and I began to feel stronger, my knees less weak at the thought of Mrs. Smith getting the better of us.

Cameron turned his head slightly, and when we made eye contact, he nodded slightly, like everything between us was okay.

And I stopped doubting that things weren't okay.

As long as I had Cameron, I was fine, right?

"What is going on here?" Mr. Chapman, our chemistry professor, walked through the double doors leading from the closest stairwell, and immediately jumped to our defense. "Mrs. Smith, kids, is something wrong?"

He paused, taking in the scene in front of him, Mrs. Smith and Cameron appearing to be in the middle of a standoff, Logan and I standing behind Cameron, like we were hiding, and of course, Cameron's open locker.

"Mr. Chapman, I came across these two breaking into Mr. Tate's locker," Mrs. Smith said with a devilish gleam in her eye. "When I began to reprimand them, Mr. Tate himself appeared and began to threaten me."

"That seems very unlike Cameron," Mr. Chapman said with a quizzical look upon his face. "Cameron? Logan? Frankie? Is this true?"

I opened my mouth to respond, but Cameron squeezed my hand and my jaw snapped shut.

"I asked Frankie and Logan to grab my homework from my locker for me," Cameron explained with a roll of his eyes. "I didn't think that it would be very efficient if I went, seeing as I'm on crutches. But when they didn't come back, I came to see what was taking so long."

Nodding, Mr. Chapman turned to Mrs. Smith. "It seems as though all of this has been sorted out, then. No need to hand out unnecessary detentions. Guys, please get back to class?"

"We're in lunch," Logan shrugged, speaking up for the first time since Cameron had appeared.

"Then get back to lunch."

"Yes, sir."

"Okay, Mr. Chapman."

"Thanks, Mr. Chapman."

The three of us spoke over each other in our haste to get away from Cameron's locker, Cameron shutting it behind him, then crutching behind us.

"What just happened?" I hissed under my breath when we were far enough away.

Cameron shook his head. "I'll explain later."

I almost stopped to demand that he give answers _now, _but when I looked over my shoulder, Mrs. Smith was still standing in the hallway, staring at the three of us, a grin on her face like we'd somehow just played right into her hands.

* * *

Hadley High was like your typical private school. Housed in some old-ass building, with professors that are either wildly eccentric and care way too much or let us play Kahoot for the entire class.

Life is boring, like, 85% of the time, and then, during the other 14%, it wasn't usually fun and exciting. Typically, it was absolute panic.

This was the final 1%.

Just plain weird.

* * *

**AN: What did you think? Please comment, favorite, follow, and PM me if you like what you read! Thanks guys! **


	5. Chapter 5: Eavesdropping

In Chemistry, Cameron, Logan, and I all sat at a lab station together. On the first day of class, Mr. Chapman let us pick our seats, because he was cool like that. Cameron and I sat with each other whenever we could, and Logan decided to sit with us instead of some kids from his year, probably because he knew Chemistry was an easy A for me and figured that he'd be able to get help from us when he forgot to do his homework.

Also, I think he likes hanging out with us, although he'd never admit it.

Logan wasn't stupid, despite how I might call him an idiot a lot. But I don't think he really cared about school. At least, not like I did.

"We're doing oxidation-reduction reactions today," Logan said as he sat down at our lab table, handing a worksheet to me and Cameron as Mr. Chapman tried to get everyone's attention.

I kept waiting for Cameron to ask me what we were doing in his locker. He knew about my lock-picking skills, so I assumed that he knew how we got the damned thing open, but I couldn't imagine he knew why.

I'm still not sure why we were snooping in there, especially considering that I've been in Cam's locker a million times before and had never noticed anything suspicious.

"Hey," Cameron whispered, looking over at Mr. Chapman as he went over the worksheet instructions.

I flicked my gaze away from my worksheet and over to my best friend, trying to keep my face emotionless so he wouldn't see how nervous I was.

"Mrs. Smith is really getting awful, isn't she?"

I'm hoping Cameron didn't notice my incredibly obvious exhale of relief. I had been so worried about the potential end of my friendship with Cam that I hadn't thought too much about my she-demon homeroom teacher.

"Yeah, she really is the worst," I grimaced.

Cameron shot me a sympathetic glance, "Hey, at least you only have to get through finals next week, and then you're done with her. And tomorrow's your-"

"Mr. Tate, Miss Holmes, is there an issue with the worksheet?" Mr. Chapman had his arms folded and was looking over at us in admonishment for talking during his instructions.

"No, sir," I said quickly.

Our professor raised an eyebrow, shooting us a sly grin. "Well then, if it was so important that you couldn't wait for the instructions to be finished, I'm sure the rest of the class would like to know what they're missing."

I glared at Logan, who was trying-and failing- to hide his smirk.

"Well, Mr. Chapman and class," Cameron said with a smile, looking around the room, "I was merely talking to Frankie about her birthday tomorrow."

Instantly, I squeaked and swatted at Cam's arm, he knew that I didn't want people knowing it was my birthday.

"Oh, well then, if it's Frankie's birthday tomorrow, we need to sing!" Mr. Chapman exclaimed, then jumped into the first line of the Happy Birthday Song, the rest of the class slowly following suit.

After I'd been thoroughly humiliated, Mr. Chapman simply said, "please refrain from talking during instructions again, you two," then got back to the lesson.

See? Take notes, Mrs. Smith. That's how you discipline students. I'd take the Happy Birthday Song over detention any day. She probably would've written me up for the whole week for that one, but Mr. Chapman was pretty cool about it. If it wasn't my birthday, he probably would have let it go entirely.

At the end of class, when everyone was being dismissed, Mr. Chapman told me to enjoy my birthday, and let us go on with our days. I couldn't help but look back at the classroom as I was leaving, getting the weird feeling that I was going to miss it this summer.

* * *

Giving Cameron crutches was a really terrible idea, I thought as he tripped me for the third time on our way through parking lot to Logan's car. I was starting to regret waiting for him after my practice finished, even though I had to since he practiced with Logan, who was our ride to and from school.

Glaring at him, I pointed a finger at his chest. "Once you get that cast off, I'm going to take those crutches and beat you up with them."

He scoffed in response, "Do it. You won't."

"I can't do it now, I'm pretty sure I'd get arrested for beating up a cripple," I frowned. "Wait, am I allowed to say cripple? Is that politically correct?"

Cameron made a face, shrugging as best he could with crutches underneath his arms. "It's not like they gave you a pamphlet or made you watch a video or anything."

"_So._ You broke your foot," I said, my inflection making Cameron laugh.

"If Captain America gave me the 'taking care of your broken foot' speech, I probably would've listened," Cameron shook his head, grinning.

I frowned, looking down at his foot, then up at his face. "You really should have listened anyway."

"Not all of us hang on every word that doctors say, _Franklin_."

Before I could glare at him, I caught sight of Logan's car, and immediately yelled out: "Shotgun!"

"Hey!" Cameron spluttered out incredulously, "That's not fair! I need space for my foot!"

I stuck my tongue out at him. "Too bad, so sad, it's my birthday!"

"Speaking of, its pizza and movies tonight, correct?" Cameron asked, "I figured we'd be watching your favorite movie on the eve of your sixteenth birthday?"

My favorite movie has been 16 Candles since I was about fourteen years old. I was a sucker for John Hughes, and I loved the way that multiple completely random storylines could all come together so perfectly, and in a way that made me laugh out loud every single time we watched it. Cameron and Logan were good sports the first fifty or so times that we watched it, but now that the three of us can quote the entire movie from start to finish, they only let me watch on special occasions.

And my own sixteenth birthday is the perfect time for my favorite movie.

"Of course!" I grinned over at him, "My dad should have the pizza waiting for us when we get home."

"In that case-" Cameron tripped me with his crutches _again_, and made a break to the car, as well as he could on crutches, anyway.

Which was surprisingly fast for a guy with a broken foot.

"Hey!" I laughed, running after him, forgetting everything that had happened earlier in the day.

It was Friday night, tomorrow was my birthday, and my two best friends were spending the weekend with me, what did I have to worry about?

* * *

My worst habit, probably even worse than biting my nails, is eavesdropping. It's rude and nosy and not exactly ladylike, but it's also kinda fun, and highly effective if you need information that someone probably isn't going to tell you to your face.

When I told Logan that I thought Cameron's behavior lately was the only thing making me suspicious, I was lying. I knew my dad was hiding something from me. I figured it out a while ago, but I didn't think it was anything important, so I tried to convince myself that nothing was going on at all. Maybe something was wrong at work, maybe my grandmom was bothering him about something, maybe he was thinking about my mom, I know he does every so often.

I never even considered that my dad and Cameron would be hiding the same thing from me.

* * *

We had paused the movie so that Cameron could go to the bathroom, and after waiting for him for a minute or so, I decided that I wanted more pizza.

I'd almost reached the top of the stairs when I heard my name and froze.

"-Frankie." It took me a second to realize that Cameron hadn't just addressed me.

"What about her?" My dad asked after a pause, "Is something wrong?"

I heard the shifting of Cameron's crutches, and I knew he was probably getting antsy, it always happened when he was nervous.

"I think she knows something."

I rolled my eyes.

_Actually, I know nothing, that's the issue. _

Dad let out a sigh. "Cameron, did you say anything to her? I know the two of you were close, but you can't-"

Cam cut him off. "I haven't told her anything. Even though we both know that I should. She's sixteen, how much longer do you expect to keep this from her?"

I had to bite the inside of my cheek to keep from making any noise. That did not sound like something Cameron should be saying to my dad. What were they talking about anyways? It didn't make any sense.

"As long as I have to," Dad replied, not sounding offended at Cam's candidness, instead he just sounded tired. "The less she knows, the safer she is."

_What the actual _hell_ were they talking about?_

"She broke into my locker, Holmes. You know where she gets that from," Cameron sounded more agitated now, like my dad wasn't listening to him. "Once she starts to notice the signs, it's only a matter of time before I can't do anything else."

Dad cursed under his breath. "Cameron! You're supposed to keep her away from that kind of stuff!"

"Am I supposed to keep her away from school entirely?" Cam's voice was frustrated, growing higher pitched as he got more emotional. "How long are we supposed to hide the fact that she's probably smarter than everyone there? I leave for camp in two weeks-"

I scowled, vindicated. I knew that baseball camp was somehow at the center of this. But of course, everyone thought that I was just bitter about Cameron leaving for the whole summer.

"-Logan should be with me." Cameron was saying when I snapped back to attention.

_Logan? I thought they were talking about me!_

"You know Maggie won't let them. She's too protective," my dad said in response. He was right, Maggie hated traveling, especially if Logan and I were going to be away from her for an extended period of time.

Motherly instinct, I guess.

"You need to convince her. I've been having dreams-"

_Dreams?_

I lurched forward to hear more, but in doing so, bumped the basement door, which creaked loudly, alerting the entire first floor to my presence.

Thinking quickly, I pushed the door all the way open and tried to look confused, which wasn't exactly hard, considering what I'd just heard. "Cameron!"

"What? What's wrong?" I walked into the kitchen to find my best friend looking at me like a deer caught in the headlights.

I had to laugh a little bit at his expression, which helped add to the illusion that I didn't know anything beyond the fact that my best friend was acting weird. "Nothing's wrong, except you've been gone forever. Did you get lost?"

He scowled at me, "Heck off, your dad distracted me."

I rolled my eyes, "Well hurry up, Jake Ryan isn't going to watch himself."

I grabbed a slice of pizza from the box on the island, then, after sending an exasperated look my dad's way, disappeared back into the basement, my head reeling from everything I had- or hadn't- just heard.

I had too many questions and not nearly enough answers.

But one thing was for sure- my dad and Cameron were in cahoots, and there were a lot of things they weren't telling me.

And it sounded like it was because Maggie, of all people, wasn't letting them.

I was starting to wonder if I could trust my family at all anymore.

* * *

**AN: Whew! That was a biggg scene that I've had in my mind for a while. Sorry it took so long guys! With classes and practice and work all starting in the last couple of weeks, things have been really crazy, so bear with me here! But I promise you'll get your answers soon! Please comment, favorite, follow, and PM me if you like what you read! Thanks guys!**


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